Compromised
by Cherry chain
Summary: Torn between his duty to his family and his duty to the Brotherhood, Enrico Emilione must make the most impossible of choices. A failed assassination attempt on Ezio leaves the order shaken at the betrayal. When the truth is finally revealed, who is truly guilty? What is the price of following the Creed? How much are they truly willing to sacrifice? -Story of an OC recruit-
1. Chapter 1

AN: Screw this, I gave up on writing Brotherhood Tales. Just jumping straight into an important story for my OC. I guess for once I'll indulge in writing solely about my OC instead of canon characters. Not usually my style, but whatever.

I wrote the first chapter and a half back in China two years ago. Just picked it up again a few days ago and decided I want to finish this. It'll be 3, 4 chapters at most.

Already, I'll just warn that there is not a happy ending. Nothing changes from the canon though, except that this story is kind of just slotted in at some part of the game we don't play at. Somewhere during 1503.

* * *

Zita Emilione stirred as the first morning rays drew across her face. She simply lied there, breathing, enjoying the feeling of warmth as she lied against her husband.

_He's back_ was her first relieved thought as she registered the feeling of his bare skin against her nightgown. He had left for a mission the night before and had not returned by the time Zita gave up on waiting and went to sleep. Part of her felt disappointed that despite how lightly she slept, Enrico had still managed to sneak his way into bed without waking her. Sometimes she almost believed it when an arrogant jerkass apprentice named Tessa once told her that she was probably the worst Assassin Ezio ever had the misfortune to train.

She pushed such thoughts out of her head. It was nonsense of course, she was one of their best free-runners and she was quick with her hands. Zita had already underwent years of training -thought she didn't know it- before she came to Roma. So what if Tessa was better than her at everything, she didn't care, not at all.

Gathering a considerable amount of willpower, Zita finally opened her eyes and slipped out of bed, doing her best not to disturb Enrico. The man stirred at the disturbance, but didn't wake. Shivering in the chilly morning air she began putting on a commoner's plain woollen dress, then reached for her weapons.

She only carried two blades with her. One was a small dagger she strapped to her right thigh, and she experimentally slipped her hand through the hidden slit in her dress to grab at its hilt. It was not easy to draw and it restricted her movement somewhat, but it was there if she needed it. The other was her Hidden Blade, which she strapped against the bare skin of her left forearm under her long sleeves. It was uncomfortable not to wear anything under it, and so low against the skin the blade had a much better chance of grazing her fingers -one of the recruits had lost the tip of his ring finger while wearing the blade in such a way- but it was the only way to wear it hidden under clothing. At least three months of wearing her Hidden Blade like this has given her thick protective calluses which meant she no longer got painful blisters, thank the gods.

She didn't need more than the two precautionary blades for her job. She hadn't touched her Assassin Robes or the rest of her gear since she had worn them ceremoniously three months ago during her initiation as a fully-fledged Assassin on Tiber Island. They lay in a box covered in a thick layer of dust under her bed. Her husband's however...

Zita saw the box half-exposed under the bed, its lid not fitted on fully. Evidently, Enrico had been too exhausted to properly hide his gear last night. Zita pulled the box out quietly and set the lid aside. There was blood on the white robe's left sleeve, trapped in the grooves of the hidden blade and its mechanism, and three of his throwing knives were missing.

Zita looked up at Enrico with concern, but after meticulously checking every inch of the robes she determined that he had taken no wounds that drew blood. She'll let him sleep; he had a rough night. The blood was evidence that things had gone wrong. It was supposed to be a bloodless mission, get in, replace the letter, then get out without being spotted.

She left the bloody Hidden Blade to clean later and took the robes out with her, from their bedroom to the living room of the small farmhouse they lived in. She wasn't alone. An older woman was working at the stoves, raising a fire to boil some water.

Annetta Abete, the woman Ezio had saved from a group of Borgia guards early in his stay in Roma, lived here with her husband and seven children. She wasn't young, but she glowed with youth and energy, far in her thirties but still beautiful. She and her husband had been more than happy to give Zita and Enrico use of their spare bedroom for a few Florins every month.

"Morning Zita." Annetta greeted, turning around at the sound of the Assassin closing the door behind her. Zita returned her greeting with a yawn before grabbing the basin where the family did its laundry. She dumped Enrico's bloody and sweaty robes in, and then grabbed a pail to fetch some water from the well.

"Leave it; I'm doing the laundry today anyways" Annetta told her, coming to her side and pulling the pail from her hands, before guiding Zita to the table. She forced the Assassin to sit before returning to the stove. There was steam rising from the kettle, so she deftly grabbed two cups then several bags of various dried herbs from the cabinets. She made two different teas, and brought them to the table where Zita waited awkwardly, unconsciously checking the straps of her Hidden Blade.

"Thanks." Zita accepted the offered cup from Annetta, trying to hide her grimace. The mixture tastes terrible, and there was never enough sugar in the house to make it a bit better. She wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything half an hour afterwards either, so there was nothing she could wash the taste out with. But Annetta claimed that it would help her pregnancy go smoother and her child healthy so Zita pinched her nose and downed the entire glass. At least it wasn't much.

Annetta laughed at the face she made.

"Your child will be grateful." She commented, amused as Zita pretended to retch onto the floor. The two had been distant when they first met, unsure of their standing with each other. Annetta was born a commoner and would die on the farm. Zita had been born into a rich family and was raised like a noble, but had lost everything before Ezio found her. At first the Abetes treated the Emiliones less like guests and more like masters. But over the weeks walls had fallen, and the two families had grown close. Zita was glad to finally have a friend like Annetta. Being a woman in the Assassin order was a lonely existence, if only because the only other female Assassin -Tessa Varzi- was absolutely intolerable. Though Zita had made friends with the men and had fallen in love with one, men were still oddly incompetent at understanding women.

Zita got to her feet as Annetta cleared the tables and went to prepare breakfast. Zita's hand came up to rub her growing belly with a sense of amazement. Sometimes, the idea of becoming a mother still seemed so strange, as if it was happening to someone else and she were just observing.

Her child was the reason Ezio decided to send her and her husband here when Enrico had first proposed. He had said that the tight enclosed rooms of Tiber Island or one of the more secretive, hidden safehouses was no place to give birth to a child. He had arranged for the Emiliones to be out here, on the farm with fresh air and open space, looking very much like commoners so they could make their way around without fear of detection.

"I'll have food ready in half an hour. You're going to see the birds?" Annetta asked as Zita put a bag of grain in her back and flung it across her back.

"Yes. I shouldn't be too long." Zita pushed her way outside, suddenly wishing she had brought a cloak. It was cold this early, and Spring had come late this year. Shrugging off the cold she made her way across the Abete's farmland.

The man and his sons were already on the field, near the house so they can be called in for breakfast, but working nonetheless. They gave Zita only the barest of greetings before going back to the work that will take them most of the day. Zita took her time, for she was in no real hurry. Her destination was a small grove of trees at the back of the Abete's property, right up against some low cliffs. She made her way through the underbrush, unable to be seen from the road. The sound of dozens of pigeons and the smell of their waste reached her before she saw the wooden structure built against the side of the cliff.

Her child wasn't the only reason she was out here. Ezio worked on many levels, and he doesn't let the talent at his disposal go to waste. For all that she was useless in the battlefield, the court, and in the shadows, Zita knew the birds like no other, having grown up helping her father run a pigeon post in Milano. It might seem like a minor skill, but Ezio saw the importance in having one who could train and keep their communication channels healthy. It had taken several weeks for Zita and the other Assassins to retrain the pigeons to fly here, and it had been a dangerous time with so much activity making them a target, but the danger has passed.

This place was perfect. Unless if anyone went out of their way to trespass across the Abete's land and push their way through the thin layer of trees at the back of their property, the only thing that betrayed its presence was the unusual amount of pigeons that flew to and from here.

It was a nexus of sorts for the Assassin order in Roma. Especially in the last year Ezio had begun to spread his growing number of fully-trained Assassin across Roma. There were half a dozen safehouses Zita knew of, and many more she probably didn't. They all had to keep in touch, and so did members of the Assassin Order not under Master Ezio's command. For many of the places it was impractical to keep more than a single bird or two, and each bird could only be trained to fly to one destination. Even Tiber Island couldn't hold all the birds necessary to maintain a channel of communication with everyone that needs it.

So this was Machiavelli's answer. Hide a large coop out in Roma's open lands, where most other Assassin work was so inconvenient Cesare would never bother scouring these lands for his enemies. Important channels of communication -like between Ezio's hideout at Tiber Island and Volpe's hideout at his inn- was still maintained, but every section of the Order had at least one bird that flew here. If they did not have a bird that went where they needed, they sent the bird here and Zita would redirect the message. Each section would have to decide for themselves if they can afford to wait or if they would have to deliver the message via human carriers. Birds from other cities all sent their birds here or directly to Tiber Island when they needed to communicate with the Roma chapter of the Order.

Zita was essentially in charge of the one thing Cesare wanted to get his hands on the most -other than Master Ezio's head- though safeguards were of course in place if this coop was captured. She checked each of the cages carefully, leaving food where it was needed, taking the letters of all the birds who bore any, redirecting most of them. She moved certain birds to different cages and kept an eye for any new birds coming in. In the end, it took more than an hour and she didn't even need to clean the cages today.

Finally Zita left the coop, her arms aching and with a headache coming in. She held three unopened messages that were for her and her Husband.

There was another reason Ezio had left the running of the main coop to Zita. Her husband Enrico had been trained, alongside with battle and stealth and roof-running, in Venezia to be their forger, scholar, to be an expert at all things of the written word, true or half-true or with lies dripping from every rune. He maintained the various ciphers used by the Order, was called upon to crack the secret messages of their enemies, was used to help them identify handwriting, and to forge documents of all kinds. Between all that and the normal missions of a trained Assassin, the man was always busy. It was valuable to have one of his skills at their heart of their communications channel. Antonio of Venezia often complained about how Ezio had stolen one of their most important assets but both men knew Enrico did more good here at the heart of Templar power. Antonio can train another; Ezio needed him now.

"You're back. Give me a few minutes; I'll warm something for you to eat." Annetta greeted Zita as the Assassin walked across the dining room to grab the cipher from its hiding spot in a crack in their bedroom wall -Enrico was still fast asleep, and knowing him would probably sleep until noon- and returned to sit at the dinner table. Carefully breaking the seal of each message, she decoded and read them.

The first one was from Tessa to Enrico. The poison he'd requested had finished brewing, and he was to pick it up tonight from her workshop. The note finished with a warning about how it will lose its potency within the week so he shouldn't tarry.

The second one was just a reminder from Machiavelli that it was about time to change ciphers, and he expected Enrico back at Tiber Island in three days to solidify it. Paranoid old coot. Zita felt annoyed. That's two nights Enrico likely won't be home within the next week.

Annetta shot her a look when Zita decoded part of the last message and groaned. The older women set a steaming bowl of porridge before her.

"Busy week?"

"I'm going to have awfully lots of lonely nights for a married woman." Zita muttered, slowly deciphered the last of the message. This one also had the glyph that marked the message for Enrico.

"Well, I'm not sharing Lamberto, though I'm sure one of my sons would be glad to help remedy your problem." Annetta laughed as she made her way back to the stoves, feigning a dodge at an attack that didn't come.

"I'll pass." Zita scowled and rolled her eyes, staring down at the decoded message she had scrawled on the back of the original.

_We nicked some letters from a Borgia messenger tonight._ It was probably written the day before, after Zita's evening run to the birds. _We can't break it, we think they're using a new code. We thought you'd like a look at it. Even if the message isn't important, we want you to break the cipher. Meet us tomorrow, we'll buy drinks._

After that was a scribbled glyph that meant the meeting place would be at the inn _I battenti pugnale_. Zita wondered at that for a moment. The inn wasn't too far a ride from here, though it was kind of seedy and a rather obvious place to pass secret messages. Zita shrugged it off; the place was reputed to have some good spirits and the men were probably just thirsty. Master Ezio didn't let his Assassins indulge much in anything that would dull their senses so, but even he knew he couldn't keep them perfectly dry. She'll make sure they don't have too much and that Tiber Island doesn't hear of it.

She realized then that she was ready to go in Enrico's place. Let him sleep; she could handle getting a single letter. He had a long ride to Tessa's that night ahead of him anyways.

It was annoying that they didn't send the stolen document with the bird either, but they probably didn't want to lose it. They wanted Enrico to see the original, because a copy might lack things a pen can't clone. It was a fair enough fear, but still irritating. She left Enrico the messages, hid the cipher, and finished her breakfast before going out back to get her horse.

xXxXxXx

Enrico stared at the piece of paper in his hand with shock and despair. The Abetes had woken him late in the afternoon, asking him if he knew why Zita had not returned yet. He read all the messages immediately as well as the note she left him, and was reassured because she wouldn't be back that soon after going for the Borgia documents. But then he saw the original, coded message and ran to his room.

He compared the handwriting to the one who should have written it, a man in charge of the only other safehouse near enough to _I battenti pugnale_ to make sense. It didn't match. It was unfamiliar; it wasn't an Assassin that wrote it.

With barely a word of explanation to the Abetes, Enrico grabbed his own horse and galloped at full speeds towards the inn. Twenty minutes later, he nearly jumped off his horse, his heart in his throat. The streets around the inn were empty. The one man who saw him fled. His heart dropped; the man had been looting a dead body.

Enrico forced professional calm into his movements as he approached the inn more stealthily. The door was open, and he could smell the carnage. Blood, steel, death-loosened bowels, and bodies left out in the sun for half a day.

He could see that the body by the door was that of someone who had tried to run away and was evidently stopped before they got away. He bled from a thin cut through his ribs that clipped the major artery leaving the heart. It was a thief; one of La Volpe's if Enrico guessed right. This inn was favoured by the guild, closer to the city than their own.

Enrico crept to the door and looked in, grimacing. There had been a fight here. Though the tables and the chairs had been arranged as they should be, there was no hiding the twinkle of glass shards, the missing chair legs, the gouges in the wood, and the blood seeped into the floor that their hurried cleaning could not get out.

He found the bodies downstairs in the wine cellar, only having to follow his nose. They had been piled there, mostly dead thieves, but the barkeeper, the serving girls, the bard that lived here- everyone was dead. La Volpe was going to be furious; some of his best contacts, all gone.

Enrico held back his revulsion as he looked for the one body that would make his world end. But Zita wasn't in the pile, and Enrico found himself collapsed against the wall, shaking. He didn't know if this was a good or bad thing. These men were killed this morning. Zita had left nearer to noon. Had he maybe been wrong? Had he let his fears get to the better of him when he read that letter? Maybe Zita had arrived, saw the carnage, and fled to another safehouse.

_The body outside the door was still bleeding._ He suddenly realizing, the time frame of that kill and the massacre not matching up. What was he doing here? He had to get out. He had to report to La Volpe, get a message to Machiavelli and Ezio. Too many things were going wrong. He had been expected last night on his mission. Was this a coincidence?

Something dropped to the ground in front of the door and Enrico turned in a flash, his Hidden Blade sliding out and his other hand reached for a sword.

"Keep your steel, Assassin." The man now blocking his exit commanded. The voice was commanding, a man perhaps in his twenties. Confident. There was a flash of steel and in the darkness of the cellar Enrico was suddenly aware of the sword at his throat.

_How?_ He had been careless, had allowed his panic and grief and shock to overcome his years of training. He could almost imagine Master Casimiro's scowl. Enrico took his hand off the sword and straightened up.

"An Assassin kills with more than steel." There was no fear in his voice, though his mind raced. Who could knowingly threaten an Assassin and be so fearless, so confident? The man laughed and that unnerved him even more. _Great, faced against a shadow of Ezio's legend and this man laughs. I'm screwed._

"Granted. But I'm not here for blood." The man sheathed his sword, and then tossed something at Enrico. The Assassin dodged aside, whatever had been thrown fell to the floor with a small thump, slid a few centimetres, and stopped.

"Jumpy little Assassin aren't you? You slipped through our fingers last night boy, but we have you now. You're not to say a word of this to your friends, and you are to meet us at the bridge to the Vatican tonight." The man turned to leave.

"You have no power over me." Enrico scoffed, but the man laughed and the Assassin found himself unable to put a throwing blade between the man's shoulder blades. He had been threatened openly. "They had him." That could only mean one thing, but he fought against that nightmare as the man vanished from sight. He instead turned, trying to distract himself with what the man had thrown again him. It was a small velvet bag. He emptied its contents into his palm.

Hope vanished.

It was a finger, the sign of the Assassin branded onto its base barely visible under the blood and the wedding ring Enrico had proposed with.


	2. Chapter 2

Cesare was a damned fool, Rodrigo thought but wisely held his tongue as the guards led the blindfolded Assassin in. The Pope sat in a rich cushioned seat in the back of the room, wanting nothing of this plan that was doomed to failure but unwilling to let his son act without him. Cesare himself, in full armour with his fine sword belted at his side, dismissed the guards -dismissed them! With a cursed Assassin in the room! Was he insane? - And tore off the blindfold.

"It doesn't matter; I memorized the route here anyways." The Assassin spat and Rodrigo winced for his fine carpet. The man was tall, and though he wore the loose sleeves of the current fashion under an embroidered vest, Rodrigo could tell that the man was well built. His stance was comfortable, a swordsman's, and a hand habitually twitched towards the hilt of his nonexistent sword.

Cesare slapped him and Rodrigo had to forcibly stop himself from jumping out of his seat. The man was disarmed and obviously his fool of a son thought that gave him control. Rodrigo's last meeting with a disarmed Assassin had ended a disastrous embarrassment. Curse that Auditore bastard. He should have demanded Giovanni's youngest son to be captured and killed with all the resources he could muster. He had thought a mere boy wouldn't be worth the effort.

The Assassin clenched his fists but did not retaliate. His eyes burned with anger.

_Incompetent fool. You are to break him, not give him weapo__ns against you. Push him too far and hostage or not, he will snap and kill us all._

"Tell me what you want already. The longer I stay, the greater the chance you'll find what's left of your spine jammed through your pathetic manhood." The Assassin spoke the moment he worked past the pain in his jaw, and his voice was cutting, nearly a snarl. Damn the man was fearless. His voice didn't even shake, and Cesare looked on the verge of either laughing or burying his sword in the Assassin. Maybe a mixture of both.

Cesare decided to make his move then, striding right up to the Assassin, face to face. His hand came forward suddenly, drawing back to reveal the small blade the Assassin had managed to hide in a fold in his clothing. The Assassin barely flinched, just glared daggers at his captor. Cesare allowed the knife to drop to the floor with a dull thump, saying nothing except with the explicit contempt in the action.

_I let you bring the blade in. I don't fear you. You are nothing to me. I hold Power. I control __ev__erything__._

"Watch your tongue Assassin, or I'll make sure every one of my guards has a turn with the girl. She only needs to be alive." Cesare replied coldly. That shut the Assassin up. The man's eyed betrayed himself to Rodrigo; he had lost this. While his stance was defiant, his eyes were defeated, despairing. Finally his shoulders slumped.

"Damn you Borgias. So let's skip all the pleasantries, and get to the important part where you tell me what you want from me." The man stayed standing in the middle of the carpet, and only his eyes moved, following Cesare who casually walked to the seat by Rodrigo's side. The man had shown his back to the Assassin, mocking him.

"I want this war ended, Assassin. I want your Order crushed. I want all of Italia to finally bow down to me without you meddlesome fools prickling me from the shadows. I want Ezio's head." There, Cesare threw it right out into the open. The Assassin had expected as much.

"Killing those who follow the Creed does not erase our Creed." The Assassin replied quietly, barely above a whisper as if he were afraid to say it any louder. The man was cracking. "Others will hear its call."

"Then you don't have to worry too much about it do you? That's all there is to this_:_ either Ezio dies within a week, or you never see the girl again."

The man's jaw was clenched so tightly Rodrigo was surprised the man was able to spit out his next words.

"It's not that easy. You have no idea what kind of person Master Ezio is. I can try a hundred times and I will not be able to kill him. Please, don't do this."

Rodrigo studied the man closely. He wasn't lying. This man despaired because he had been given an impossible task with a price for failure he could not accept. What kind of fear and respect did Ezio command amongst even those closest to him? By the gods, this man who had been insulting the Borgias to their faces just moments ago suddenly seemed so scared with such prospects.

This made Rodrigo pause. Their underestimation of Ezio led to almost every one of their major defeats. Was the man even more dangerous than they thought? It was hard to tell; Ezio always had control over the whispers of the street. They didn't know how, damn it, but they knew. Legends infused everything to do with the man like filth mixed in the waters of the Tiber. The stench and murk hiding the pearls of truth.

It was a problem. If this Assassin believed he has no hope of succeeding, he might just give up on himself and the girl. Rodrigo has dealt with the Assassins long enough to know of their almost obsessive loyalty to their Order, and the readiness many had to die for their Creed.

Cesare, though, seemed unbothered by this seeming standstill. He knew these people better than his father. The fact this Assassin had agreed to come proved that he did care for the female they had captured. And what a stroke of luck that was; when one of Cesare's men decoded the assassin cipher he had been hoping to simply capture The Assassin living on the Abete farm, and torture what information he could from the man. He hadn't expected to get the girl, which gave him such good leverage. She was even with his child, which made Cesare's hold on the assassin just that much stronger. No matter how logically this man tried to reason with his and his wife's situation, he will not be able to overcome his feelings for the girl.

"That's too bad. Maybe you'd like to explain to her why you won't stop this?" He won't allow the Assassin to forget his trump, not for even a single moment. The door to the lavish room opened, and one of the guards Cesare had dismissed earlier stepped in. His grin widened as he watched the Assassin's eyes widen in shock and despair.

The guard walked into the room, and behind him two other guards escorted a woman in between them. While she was quiet and didn't struggle against her bindings, her eyes shot daggers at Cesare as she entered the room. Her attention left him the moment he saw the Assassin, standing before the Templar. Her eyes widened, but she did not say anything, afraid to reveal anything important.

"You bastard. Keep her out of this." The Assassin growled in helpless frustration. He kept his eyes on her, trying to offer comfort, reassurance. So far she seemed largely unhurt, but he knew she would not stay that way if he continued to resist. His eyes could not leave the ugly gap on her left hand, where her ring finger had been.

The girl turned her attention to Cesare, her eyes burning, daring him to face her. But he saw beneath her mask. Behind all her training, all her bravado, she was just a scared little girl.

But it didn't matter; he didn't need to break her. Just him.

He walked up to the girl, and felt more than heard the Assassin lunge at him from behind. Cesare was not to be underestimated though, and the skilled swordsman turned in time, blocking the unarmed strike and responding with the pommel of his sword. The Assassin staggered back a step, but his training would not allow him to crumple with the pain. More guards came into the room, abandoning their post just outside to protect the Borgia. Cesare turned his blade on the girl, making the Assassin pause just long enough for a guard to tackled him to ground. The guard kept the Assassin pinned to the ground in a wrist lock.

"Damn it! Don't you dare get near her you monster!"

"No, it seems like I still need to remind you who is in charge here." Cesare's kept his dangerous smile. He had wondered when the Assassin would snap. He had kept control of himself well this entire meeting, keeping his composure even when he seemed beaten- until the girl was brought in. Good, he was right about him. One of those idealistic fools so easily manipulated by a single woman.

He went to the girl then, whose attention shifted from her husband to his, her face full of rage.

"Goddamn you Templar. May the plague take your entire family" She snarled.

He ignored her, pulling her towards him by her hand. She struggled to get away, but a hard blow to the gut sent her to her knees, gasping.

"You know, I wonder how much she knows about your Order. Maybe I'll be best served to just leave you both in the care of my interrogators." He smiled coldly at the Assassin struggling on the ground as he held up the girl's hands and picked a finger, pulling it back with a sickening _crack!_ She let out a strangled scream, and Cesare let go of her, leaving the girl kneeling on the ground, shaking as she cradled her broken finger.

The Assassin stopped struggling, trembling as tears came to his eyes.

"Please stop. I give." It seemed all the words he could manage to say.

xXxXxXx

Enrico couldn't take it anymore. This entire time, he did his best to do the impossible task of weighing lives. The lives of himself, his wife, and his unborn son against that of his Master's. It was so easy to logically write himself and Zita off. They'd been prepared for death when they joined the Order. Enrico had spent his entire life assuming he would come to an early, violent end, just like his father.

But when that monster brought Zita in, all his mental preparations flew out the window. He saw her, battered, beaten, the sign of her loyalty to the Order and to him replaced with an ugly, bloody stump. He saw her fear beneath her shield of bravado. She was not born into this life as he was. She had joined the order more out of necessity than a commitment to the Creed. He was willing to suffer, to bleed, and to die for the Order, but he realized he was not willing to let her do the same.

There was nothing he could do as Cesare hurt her. Enrico could only watch, struggling uselessly against the carpet as the guard callously kept him pinned. In that moment, a wild idea came to his mind. He could end this, right now. If he could only throw the guard off, he could kill her, quickly and mercifully. Then it wouldn't matter what they did to him.

The moment passed quickly. No matter much he wanted this to end he could never kill her with his own hands. He could only watch as she crumpled, defeated. And he was as well.

"Please stop. I give." He pleaded, the words coming before his thoughts. Caught between two impossible decisions, he could only grab at the one right before him. The guard pinning him down slowly released him, pulling him up to his feet. He kept a strong wrist lock though, afraid of another outburst from him.

There wouldn't be. There was no point anymore.

"No, Enrico, don't!" Zita gasped at him. Despite her words, he could hear the conflict in her voice. She didn't want to die. She was terrified of what the Borgias may do to her. She questioned the value of her own life verses the life of the man who had saved her from her life on the streets, and the pain it would inflict upon Enrico to attempt to kill the man who had been their mentor.

"You can't trust him!" She continued, despite her fears, her misgivings. "He'll just kill us anyways; we won't be of any use after-"

The flat of a guard's blade hit her across the side of her face, stunning and silencing her.

"Of course you can't trust me." Cesare's voice was amused_. Amused_. That sadistic bastard. "But I assure you, if Ezio is dead then I'll have no use of you two either dead or alive. And if you are his killer, then you will forever be lost to your Assassin order and will hardly be a threat to me anymore. I will have nothing to lose by setting both of you free."

Could he believe those words? Was that the only way out? If his blade spills Ezio's blood, he will forever be hunted by the Brotherhood- so be it. He would likely die in retaliation- he would not be able to avoid an assassin's blade. In such a situation, he certainly would be in no position to take revenge upon Cesare. But what about Zita? Would the Order take her back? Would they take care of her, believe her when she was the wife of Ezio's murderer?

_Better hunted and killed swiftly by Brothers than tortured and humiliated by Cesare._

Was there no third option?

"Do you…have a plan on how to kill him?" Those cowardly, treacherous words made their way past his lips reluctantly. Cesare strode to the back of the room, taking a seat as he waved a hand at the guards. They were taking Zita away.

"In fact, no. I was hoping you'd be able to enlighten me on the ways your Master operates."

xXxXxXx

"This is a foolish plot." Rodrigo growled at his son after the cursed Assassin was finally dismissed. He had stayed silent throughout the whole exchange, preferring to take no part in this ill-fated plan. Still, to see his son in action was impressive; Cesare had a kind of power most men lacked. He was ruthless, uncompromising, and ambitious; truly an heir to the Borgia legacy. Rodrigo was starting to wonder if he should maybe start watching his back.

"It'll never work." Rodrigo pressed, getting up from his seat. As much as he admired his son's performance tonight, he could still not see the gain in this gambit. He had little faith in the Assassin's ability to kill Ezio, being painfully aware of the almost mythical power that Auditore bastard had. Nothing seemed to affect him. Kill him, and he'll just rise again. Hunt him down and he'll just slip through a shadowed crack. He was harder to kill than his father was- and Rodrigo had put a considerable amount of effort into the death of Giovanni Auditore, as well as his heir, that Federico kid.

"Of course it won't. I don't need him dead, not yet." Cesare answered dismissively. There was something about his tone that Rodrigo did not like. That air of superiority- it was infuriating. "But the chaos this will sow will give us a chance to strike at them finally. You might be too cowardly to do anything about the Assassins that plague this city, but I will."

"Just what are you planning?" Rodrigo's voice was dangerous at this point. Cesare just openly insulted him.

"I'm inviting some old friends to come help wipe them out."

* * *

AN: This chapter was really difficult to write because of two reasons. One, being that it was extremely Trope heavy (Sadistic Choice played straight) but this entire story kind of hinges on it so I had to deal with it. As a writer I'm a little ashamed of myself at having to make use of such a obvious trope.

The other being that Cesare is probably much more sadistic than I'm willing to write. I have a feeling that he would do a lot worse than just break a finger, but I guess I'm a little too squeamish ):


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Nrrggh, I have essays to write and exams to study for. I can't deal with all the plot holes and bad logic like I normally can because I can't put the effort into this with so much work. So just...take it at face value and don't fuss too much about details not lining up, thank you .

Also I wrote this with a lot of references to project Legacy, so I apologize for the people who didn't play the game (Or just read it off the wiki like I did). If the chapter is too hard to understand without the knowledge of the Project legacy games, please tell me and I'll see what I can do.

masta: Thanks for the review, it's always great to know that someone has actually read and likes my stories ^^

* * *

"Don't touch anything." Tessa snapped, glaring at Enrico who had thoughtlessly began to lean on a table. The assassin quickly straightened.

"Ah, sorry!" He apologized, remembering how particular Tessa was about her workshop. Considering the nature of her work, being the one who supplied almost the entire Rome chapter of the Brotherhood with poison, it made sense of course. With all the various hazardous substances she had stocked in this one room, accidents would be extremely costly. It was why she worked in a building separate from the hideout itself. Tessa rarely allowed anyone in, and only under her strict supervision. Even the Mentor Machivaelli had to obey her orders while here.

The workshop itself was meticulously tidy. Everything was labeled and placed exactly where it should be. Books lined a shelf, and Enrico could see that they were crammed with bookmarks and no doubt covered with Tessa's own scrawling notes. A table nearby was covered with the tools of her trade: mortar and pestles, various vials and flasks, and a wide array of leaves, mushrooms and powders of all kinds. Enrico stayed near the entrance as Tessa made her way further in to find the vial she had put aside for him.

"You know, I was starting to get worried. Why'd you come so late?" Tessa scolded, reaching up into a cabinet.

"I'm sorry for keeping you up. I ran into some problems with a mission last night, and cleanup hasn't been easy." Enrico apologized. It was partially true- he had screwed up last night, because the Templars had expected him. It was their first try at capturing him. Now that they had him in a tighter grip than they had ever hoped, Cesare had promised to cover up the incident himself. Enrico found himself shuddering at the thought of Cesare, but thankfully Tessa did not seem to notice.

The encounter with the Borgias was still fresh in his mind, and it took all of his willpower to keep his façade of normalcy. He had only walked out of the Borgias' castle a mere two hours ago.

Tessa came back to him, holding up a single, small flask half the size of her palm.

"You better not mess up again; your target will be on guard after your screw-up last night." She said as Enrico accepted the flask. The Assassin responded with a quiet chuckle.

"You can stop rubbing it in Tess. Don't worry; he'll be dead within the week."

She huffed as she took off the mask she always wore inside the workshop. You could never be too careful here.

"Well he better be. This will lose its potency within six days. I suggest direct contact with blood, even a small amount will do. You have a poisoner's knife ready?"

He nodded. Of course.

"The effects will be almost immediate. Within five minutes they should be heaving their guts out. They usually die within 3 hours. If you opt to put it in his food, they will need to drink the entire flask for it to be lethal, and it tastes like hell so you'd need to find some strong drink. "

"So I should just stab him, got it." Enrico carefully pocketed the small flask. Tessa shrugged and pushed the door to her workshop, opening to the back of an apothecary allied with Ezio. The two split up then to avoid attracting attention, and each made their way to the hideout, making sure they were not followed before slipping into the old warehouse.

Enrico sat in a corner of the Tiber Island Hideout, leaning against the side of a bookshelf. Since he moved out onto the Abetes' farm, another recruit had taken his bed at the main hideout. Sometimes when Enrico had to stay over here there was a free cot he could use for the night, but for tonight the Hideout was full. Some of their contacts had informed Ezio that Cesare had extended an invitation to Charles de la Motte to come to Roma. The last time the Frenchman had come to Roma was in a tournament against Cesare's men, and the Assassins had sabotaged the tournament to sour relations between the two Templar factions. The purpose of this most recent invitation was unknown, which was why Ezio was gathering the Brotherhood to prepare for whatever may happen.

So tonight, the best he could do was to find a corner and sleep on the floor. It didn't matter too much to him though; he wouldn't have been able to sleep well regardless. He knew he had to be in top condition for his task tomorrow, but nothing would bring the sweet oblivion of sleep to his troubled mind. All his years of training could not have prepared him for a mission like this.

_How did this happen?_

Enrico worked silently, trying to keep his hand busy, to keep his mind occupied. He worked at carefully threading poison-dipped cotton through the holes in his poisoner's knife, the dangerous, meticulous work forcing him to concentrate. But it could only keep him for so long, and once he was done with his work he could not hide anymore.

_What do I do?_

He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall, almost wishing he'd disappear through it. He still had a choice. He could still remain loyal to the Assassins. He could go find Machiavelli right now and confess everything to the Mentor. He could still betray Cesare and salvage what he could from this situation. But it meant giving up on Zita.

That was the burden of freedom wasn't it? That ability to choose? That ability to choose when there were no right answers. A world of freedom would never be free of such tragedies. Maybe this was what the Templars fought against.

The Assassin fought down his rising panic. There had to be an answer! There must be a third option! But hard as he tried, nothing came to him. Just dead ends, impossible choices. He would lose no matter what. He could kill Ezio and Zita would live, and his own life would be forfeit. Or he could remain loyal to the Order and his love and their child would die. And if he failed?

Tomorrow, there was no room for second guessing. He had to do either one or the other. Any half-hearted attempt would result in the greatest disaster. He made his decision, even as he hated it.

_I'm sorry…_

Finally exhaustion pulled him into restless sleep, with shadows pulling at him from the darkness, and the right answer forever just out of his grasp.

Somehow, despite his troubled sleep, he slept deeply- too deeply. Such a sleep has never come upon him before, except maybe during the peaceful days of his childhood, when his father had yet to reveal the world of Assassins and Templars to him. But this deep sleep was not a sign of tranquility, like back then, but more out of defense. He was simply trying to hide from the world.

So even though the activity in the hideout around him began to increase, all the voices, the footsteps, the kind of noise his training would not have let him sleep through- he slept through it still. Finally, someone grabbed his shoulder and woke him with a rough shake.

Enrico's eyes opened immediately, and his training kicked in. What do you see? _Stone walls. Bookshelves. Assassin in front of me. Friendly._ What do you hear? _Low talking. Many people. _What do you smell? _Tiber River. Sweat. Blood. Stone. _What do you feel? _Rough floor. Bookshelf. Sore neck. Nothing injured._ And finally, the big question: are you in danger? _No_. He relaxed, shaking the sleep out of his weary body.

"My friend, if you are so tired perhaps you'd like to go upstairs? There are some beds free now."

Enrico looked up at the concerned face of his fellow Assassin. His skin was a dark brown, easily marking him as the only African member of the Italian Assassins: Cipriano Enu. Although Enrico himself has not worked with Enu much, nobody doubts his skill with that longbow which was reputed to be the best in the Order. Some said even better than that of Perotto's.

Enrico yawned, stretching out his sore muscles. He had fallen asleep sitting, and several muscles protested from the abuse.

"It's alright, I can manage. Last night was a long night for me, Brother."

"I heard." Oh, right, Enu was in the same Assassin team as Tessa. Her entire team probably has heard of his botched mission by now. The African gave Enrico a helping hand, pulling him to his feet. He patted Enrico on the shoulder once before leaving. "Her words can be harsh, but don't take them too seriously. She means well."

Enrico went through a routine check of his equipment, making sure his hidden blade was functioning correctly, going through a mental checklist of all his weapons, hidden and not to make sure they were all accounted for.

There was little left for him to do but to find Ezio now. The Master was constantly all over the city, usually coordinating with the Order through whatever safe house he was currently nearest. But Ezio had been strengthening their central point of power here on Tiber Island because of the threat from Charles de la Motte. He should be dropping in himself sooner or later.

Just then, a young recruit dashed down the stairs by Enrico, and dashed into the study. The Assassin paused for a second to listen in on the report.

"Mentor! Master Ezio has returned. He's calling a meeting."

All of the Assassins at Tiber Island gathered in the main room, and Ezio made sure he had a representative from every Team before starting. Enrico stayed near the front of the room, near Ezio, as the Master explained the situation.

Ezio seemed tired, but only because Enrico was so good at reading people's body language and expressions. To the rest of the recruits, Ezio was the usual strong, unbreakable, ultimate champion of the Creed. Enrico once again felt his will wavering.

_I can't do this. He gave us everything. We have a chance in Roma because he leads us._

Enrico was barely paying attention to what the Master had to say, but he forced his mind back on the current task. Ezio had gone to spy on the papal guards last night, and what he heard was disturbing.

"They know of the Frenchmen's coming, and have been ordered to not interfere with the mercenaries." The Master explained. "I want three Teams to monitor Charles and his men when he arrives, and everyone else to be ready to respond."

It sounds like he and Machiavelli had already worked out what they were to do. As the Mentor and the Master explained the details and briefed the three chosen teams, Enrico made his way closer to the Master Assassin.

He relaxed. In this final, last moment, the decision would finally be made. Whatever the outcome, he would no longer have any control. When it came to the job, he allowed nothing else to distract him. It was only him, his target, and the obstacles between them.

There was a collective surprised gasp as a white blur broke out of the crowd and lunged for the Master. Surely even Ezio's legendary reflexes wouldn't be able to save him from such a sudden attack from so close.

Somehow, impossibly, a bracer smashed into Enrico's left hand, knocking the hidden blade aside before it could find its target. Though there was nothing but surprise in his face, Ezio's body reacted as it would to any attacker. He had blocked the attack and was moving in for a counterattack.

It didn't matter.

Enrico's right hand came up with a dagger, and he aimed for a gap in the Master's armour. He felt steel parting flesh- his own flesh. His combat reflexes forced him to jump back and disengage, before the Master's blade could find something vital.

He had failed.

Someone kicked him hard in the back of his knee and he fell to the ground. His skilled attacker caught his arm, twisting it until his joints locked. Enrico grunted in pain as he looked up into the emotionless face of Enu. He botched his one chance, and now it was over.

He let go of his death grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the ground. Then he simply slumped, didn't even try to struggle. He stared dully at the blood that bloomed on his robes. It wasn't a deep cut, not really. It was more of a grazing blow than anything. He was disappointed. It wasn't fatal. Ignoring the pain, the humiliation, he waited for judgment to come.

It didn't come, not immediately.

"Ezio!" Machiavelli's concerned voice made Enrico look up again, to see the Master Assassin staggering. Another assassin quickly helped support him, as it seemed the strength had left him. Enrico stared numbly as he saw the red begin to bleed through Ezio's own robes. Enrico hadn't missed, hadn't withdrawn too quickly.

"You bastard." Someone grabbed Enrico roughly by the collar, shaking him. He looked down, not wanting to look her in the eyes. The voice was Tessa's. There was a flash of steel and his eyes focused on it. It was the dagger he had dropped. Tessa held it before his eyes threateningly, and he found his attention drawn to the cotton threads weaved through small holes on the blade. A poisoned blade.

"What did you use?"

There was fear in her voice. Maybe he hadn't failed yet. Maybe the poison would be enough to finally kill a Legend. When he would not answer, she growled in frustration and threw the dagger aside, standing up and taking charge.

"Master Ezio, please lie down and don't strain yourself. Francesco, Enu, find out whatever you can from this bastard. I need to know what poison he used. I'm going to my workshop."

Enu shifted his hold on Enrico, pulling and locking his arms behind him and forcing the Assassin to stand up. Francesco stood before him then, replacing Tessa who hurried out of the hideout. There were questions in his eyes. _Why? _Enrico looked away, could not bear the accusation. They had been close, having trained together in Venice and had come to Roma together. They had been close friends.

Francesco however, did not ask the questions he longed to ask. There were more pressing issues.

"What did you use?" His voice was cold and Enrico closed his eyes. All he had to do was survive the interrogation, to resist long enough. Tessa could not give the right antidote without knowing what poison was used. If she gave the wrong antidote, it would do more harm than help. When Ezio died and the Brothers kill him in retaliation, he'd be free.

He waited for the blow. They were assassins, ruthlessly, merciless. But no matter how much pain they inflict upon him, he can endure. He can endure so that Zita doesn't have to.

But the pain never came.

"What did they do to you?" Francesco's voice softened. He could tell that Enrico was not doing this of his own free will. "What do they hold over you?"

Enrico choked back a sob. No damn it. He didn't need their pity. He had gone against the order he had sworn his life to. He had turned back on everything he had held dear, everything but his love. All he wanted now was to die, to atone.

One of the assassin searched Enrico, creating a sizeably pile of his hidden weapons, and more importantly, his stock of medicines and poisons. Enrico wasn't careless enough to have kept such obvious evidence on his person. They would never find the right poison in time.

"They have Zita don't they?"

Enrico flinched at the name.

"You would never betray the Brotherhood. Not unless if they have something you can't give up. She was your weakness."

"I can't tell you damnit!" Enrico blurted out, suddenly angry. What did Francesco know? How would he understand why this choice had to be made? He deflated after his outburst, and would have fallen to his knees if Enu did not force him to stay upright.

"I…I don't know. Cesare supplied the poison. He…he didn't day what it was."

"That's all I need to know." Came Tessa's voice from somewhere near the entrance of the hideout, the woman having heard the end of the exchange. Her voice was cold, uncompromising, unlike Francesco's. She sounded out of breath, having probably run all the way to the workshop and back as fast as she could have.

Enrico could not see what was going on from where Enu kept a strong grip on him, but he could almost hear the apprentices parting for Tessa as she rushed to the Master's side.

Tessa has dealt with Borgia poisons before. They weren't very creative with it, and now that Enrico had confirmed it was from Cesare himself, it narrows down the possibilities considerably. In fact, considering the fact Ezio was simply losing his coordination and balance, as well as developing a killer headache, instead of having a seizure or throwing up blood, Tessa was confident she knew what it was.

It was a slow poison, but when the final symptoms appear within an hour, there would have been nothing Tessa or anyone else could have done for him. Luckily, it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes after the traitor had inflicted the wound.

When Tessa had gone to her workshop, she had grabbed the antidotes to common poisons, the one she had given Enrico the night prior for his mission (Although she had checked the knife used by Enrico, and it lacked the distinct smell of the poison in question so she had doubted that was what was used), as well as those she has found used by the Templars in the past. She had an antidote to the Poison Enrico used, thankfully, and judging by the severity of Ezio's symptoms, the Master had not received much of the poison. Maybe he could have survived even without the antidote, though not without some major damage.

Though the Master did not want to stay down, Tessa took over and dealt with the situation as she would any patient regardless of rank. After being very firm that he was to get to his room and rest, and _not_ get up for at least three days, as well as assigning two recruits to guard Ezio, she made her way back to the rest of her team.

"Is he-"

"He'll live." Tessa answered Francesco's question, and the Assassin relaxed visibly with relief.

"That is good news." Enu responded with a quiet nod. The female assassin looked down at Francesco's feet, where Enrico had been tied and restrained. He didn't seem to respond to the news, simply sat there staring at the ground. Francesco saw the malice in her eyes and stepped forward, gesturing for her to step out with him.

She did so and when they were out of earshot, Francesco immediately explained what he knew.

"They have Zita."

"That explains some things. Damn her, of all the stupid mistakes she could have made…" Tessa shook her head. "So what now?"

"Enu wants to send a rescue party. We know the weaknesses of the Castell Sant'Angelo, the Master has infiltrated it before."

Tessa's expression spoke volumes more than her words.

"No. We can't afford such a high risk mission to save just her." She glared at Francesco until he sighed and nodded.

"Agreed. I hate to give up on her but…we have the French mercenaries to worry about. We should also probably evacuate the Abetes, as Cesare knows they were harbouring Assassins. We will also need to establish a new communication center…" Francesco rubbed his forehead. Damn it all, this was such a mess.

"We also need to deal with Enrico."

Francesco saw the concern in her face, even though her voice was cold. She was worried for him, to put him through the same pain of losing someone close to the Creed again. He had never thought he would face another incident like Perotto's again.

"He…he didn't have a choice." The assassin looked away. "He didn't kill anyone, not like my master did."

"He broke the Creed Francesco. He nearly killed the one man who might finally win us this war! He could have informed us!"

What would they have been able to do if they had known? Simply comfort Enrico as they all resigned themselves to Zita's death. That wasn't an ending Enrico wanted. But his breach of the Creed was not tolerable. Likely he will be executed.

"Damn it." Francesco slammed a fist into the wall beside him.

There was no third option.

* * *

AN: One chapter left, to wrap up this mess.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry for taking so long. After the last chapter I ran into a really busy period at school. And literally right after all my essays and stuff were finally finished and handed in, AC3 finally came out for PC so you can imagine what's been taking up all my free time last week XD

This is more an epilogue than anything, which is why it's short and kind of rushed? That and I kind of lost the will to finish this so i apologize that it doesn't really have my full effort in it.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Aftermath**

"They're in the city." The scout reported, out of breath in the main hall of Tiber Island.

"They're abusing civilians and the guards won't stop them. One group of soldiers have driven everyone out of an inn on the west side- if we don't do anything about it, it's going to get violent. Marco requests backup."

Francesco didn't wait for the Mentor's reply.

"We'll be there. Tessa, go inform Stefano, Grabrielle, and Luca to prepare their team. I'll go get-"

Someone grabbed Francesco by the shoulder, forcing him to turn around. It took all of his self-control not to gut Machiavalli on reflex. It was never wise to approach an assassin from behind. Francesco knew already the words the Mentor was about to speak, but he wasn't in the mood to hear them.

"This is most likely a trap to-"

"Lure us out? Let them try. We can't just do nothing. We'll mitigate what damage we can. _You_, however, can figure out how to pin this all on the Borgias. It won't look good on them if the people knew." The two stood there glaring at each for a few seconds.

Francesco had never liked Machiavalli. The man was ruthless. The Master was as well, but Ezio had morals, honour. Tessa never trusted the Mentor either, having spent many years in the company of La Volpe. Coupling this and with the man's insistence on executing Enrico has put the Venetian Assassin on edge against the Mentor.

Machivaelli however, stepped down.

"Indeed I will. Don't say I didn't warn you. Good luck."

Francesco was taken aback at first, as The Mentor backed off and left for his study. It was not like Machiavelli to have his authority challenged. Of course, Francesco was not aware that Machiavelli has planned to pass on the rank of Mentor to Ezio, a truer leader of the Assassins than he could ever be.

Francesco had no more time to waste on the politics of the brotherhood- lives were at stake. Seeing that whatever potential conflict has come to pass, Tessa made off to follow Francesco's orders. He himself left to grab his gear and to find Enu.

xXxXxXx

"No Ezio, let them handle this." Machiavelli scolded the Master Assassin. Ezio had been bedridden for two days, but was recovering fast. If it wasn't for the constant orders to stay down by his well-meaning recruits and allies, he'd be back in the field already. For now Tessa has allowed him to get up and about, as long as he does nothing strenuous.

Machiavelli had explained the situation to Ezio as he sat calmly at the desk, writing letters and false documents implicating Cesare and the Pope's involvement in what is surely going to result in violent conflict between Charles' men and the populace. Considering that this was the truth, it was not difficult. He'll just have to plant them in the right place, a job he'll trust no one but himself and Ezio to accomplish. Which unfortunately, Ezio was not allowed to do at the moment on the doctor's orders. He'll have to do it himself then.

"I don't like this. It's not a coincidence, Charles attacking so soon after what happened with Enrico." Ezio mumbled, reclined back in a chair behind the Mentor.

"Of course it isn't. From what I've heard from Enrico, it sounds like Cesare knew about our major pigeon coops for weeks, if not months already. They've been preparing to attack our outlying hideouts, and it just happened that the Emiliones were the most isolated." Machiavelli scowled. How could they have allowed the Borgias to outmanoeuvre them like this?

"And didn't you lose our Templar spy?"

Ezio looked up at Machiavelli back, a sadness coming to his features.

"Yes, we lost contact with Fiora a month ago…we've yet to find any trace of her. She's either dead, or has betrayed us." While Ezio had assigned Francesco to work with the former Templar, Ezio himself had met her a few times. She had been a good person.

"The kind of information Cesare has on us, he must have found out from her. You shouldn't have trusted her so easily." Machiavelli scoffed. Ezio, however, seemed to think otherwise.

"I still do."

That's when a recruit slammed open the door, stumbling in to fall on his knees. He was breathing heavily, as if he had just run halfway across Roma.

"Master! They're in trouble!"

xXxXxXx

"We have to get to the roof!" Francesco screamed above the sounds of fire and the mayhem outside the inn they had barricaded themselves into. There were just too many enemies. The group of a dozen assassins and the innkeeper had been trying to keep the door blocked until help of some kind, any kind, could arrive. But it hasn't, and the Templars had thrown torches into the building.

The smoke would kill them all- there was no choice but to get out. Even now the door broke down and several flaming arrows arced into the room. It struck one of the Assassins and Enrico dashed for the man, smothering the fire with his cloak.

Enrico, Enu and Tessa retreated behind the rest of the Assassins and the innkeeper up the stairs as the fire came to life all around them. The Templars did not pursue them through the inferno, just waiting for the Assassins to be smoked out.

The smoke stung his eyes and lungs, and he held his cloak up to his nose and mouth to try and keep some of it out. There had to be a way out of the building and onto the roofs!

He turned when he heard a crash behind him, just in time to see the floor collapse beneath several Assassins. Above all the noise and mayhem, Enrico heard a woman's scream.

"Tessa?" No. It couldn't be.

"TESSA!" Enrico lunged for the hole but strong arms grabbed him and pulled him back easily. Enu shook Enrico by his shoulders, scowling. This wasn't the time for mourning. They still had to get out.

xXxXxXx

"How-what happened!?" Claudia hurried opened the door to the Rosa in Fiore, allowing her brother inside. On his back he carried an Assassin, severely injured by the looks of all that blood. Behind him followed perhaps half a dozen Assassins. All were bloodied and injured.

"Charles de la Motte's men trapped one of our teams in an inn and set fire to it. Another team was cornered and forced to fight ten on one. We lost a lot of good men and women tonight sister. " Ezio replied wearily, carefully lowering the injured man he carried onto the ground.

"Can I trust you and your girls to take care of them for tonight?" Ezio asked, gesturing to the broken band behind him. Claudia nodded.

"Of course, but-" She saw that her brother was always turning to leave, and she grabbed his hand. "You shouldn't be doing this." She knew about the attempt on his life.

"We still have teams out there. They were ready for us, Claudia. If I don't stop this, we'll lose many more."

Claudia let him go. There was nothing that could dissuade his brother when he thought he was doing right.

xXxXxXx

"Get up!"

The words floated just on the edges of Zita's consciousness, unable to penetrate the barrier she had put up to protect herself from the pain and the nightmares. She curled up tighter in her little protective bubble of ignorant bliss, scared to go back into the world where she would think. Where she would suffer.

That choice was not left to her though, as a sharp pain pierced her sides. Her eyes flew open and her training caused her to lash out at her attacker- or tried to. Weakened and bound, she did little more than flail against the foot that had kicked her before hands grabbed her roughly and pulled her to her feet. Slumped between two guards, she knew that without their support she would not have been able to stand.

She started shaking, afraid of what was to come. She knew that she was near her breaking point. Cesare did not keep his word to Enrico, as Zita had known he wouldn't.

Her interrogation has not been kind.

As they dragged her from her cell, the first thing she noticed was that they were not taking her to the dreaded chamber. The other way in fact, towards the stairs that would eventually lead to freedom. She didn't know what this meant.

Did Enrico succeed in the task Cesare had given him? Was he back from killing the Master? Zita felt dread at that prospect. No, no, Enrico couldn't have. Wouldn't have. Ezio gave them everything. He was the reason she lived to see this day.

Something moved at the corner of her eyes, and Zita raised her head to see more guards. They carried another person between them. She seemed worse off than Zita herself was, barely conscious. Her clothing might have been fine once, hinting at a simple but elegant pink dress, now dull and damaged. Zita had never seen her before.

That was when the door to the dungeons banged open. Zita squinted at the sudden light, her eyed unaccustomed after days in her dark cell. A formidable figure framed the doorway, and she didn't have to see to know that it was Cesare Borgia. There was something akin to glee in his voice as he spoke. Something must be going well for him.

"I have no more need of you ladies here. I'd like you two to send a message to your Master."

Just as her vision had begun to recover, a shadow seemed to break off from Cesare's own towards her. The next thing she knew, something heavy and blunt smashed into her shoulder and she crumpled, screaming.

xXxXxXx

"We lost 15 that night."

Enrico stared at his feet, unable to look up into the grief-struck face of her friend. He knew what Francesco had lost. Tessa. Enu. Those three had been so close, had been the star trio of the Brotherhood. They were to have done great things together. But they were gone, all but Francesco and three of his team.

Enrico had been helpless when he heard about the attack. He had spent the night sitting on the bed in his makeshift cell, listening to the chaos and desperation and grief.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Francesco's voice turned dangerous. "Don't tell me you're sorry after you turned on us when we needed you most."

Enrico had no response, simply kept staring at his feet.

"Why won't the master just kill me already?"

"Because he insists that we're burying enough Brothers and Sister right now to add another corpse to the pile. You get to live another week." Francesco's edged voice softened. "And we found Zita."

Enrico's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"What?"

"We went back to the inn to- to retrieve…Tessa and the others." The Assassin was shaking. It could not have been a pleasant experience. "There were two bodies there untouched by flames. They were put there after the fire."

"Bodies?" Enrico's heart sank.

"One was that Templar agent we turned. Fiora Cavazza. We lost contact with her a while ago, Cesare must have found out. And…the other was Zita. They were both alive when we found them this morning, but they were very hurt."

"She's alive!?"

"I…I wouldn't keep my hopes up if I were you. Cesare is a sick, twisted bastard."

xXxXxXx

Somehow, miraculously, she lived. Her battered body slowly mended, and she regained bits of her strength, day by day. Her and Enrico's child was lost to them, but there was no way she could carry their son in the state she was in. She grieved for her unborn child, as she grieved for the entire tragedy. Fiora, who had been weaker than her at the time of their beating, did not survive.

She would live with the limp and the scars her entire life, but that mattered little now. She stood in the hall, broken, leaning against a fellow assassin for support. Ezio had told her not to come, but she had to be here. Maybe she'd understand if she saw.

They let her spend one last night with him. She had begged him to run away with her. To break out and live on their own. He had promised to take her to the city of his birth one day. She had always longed to see beautiful Venezia.

He simply shook his head, smiled, and pulled her into his gentle embrace. He had stroked her hair and comforted her as she cried.

"I lived by the Creed Zita, I'm ready to die by it. But…think long and hard about it my love. Are you prepared to do the same? We dragged you into this world. You can still leave."

She couldn't understand why he was doing this. She didn't know why Enrico walked calmly, confidently as Francesco and Marco escorted him to the end of the hall where Mentor Machiavelli and Master Ezio stood. Though Altair had stripped the brotherhood of many of their rituals, not all had been lost.

"You swore an oath to the brotherhood and its Creed and you have broken it. Are you ready to accept the consequences?"

"I am."

There was no fear in his voice. Enrico looked away from the hidden blade that slid out with a quiet familiar _shink_, away from his death, instead locking his eyes with Zita in his final moment. He smiled a reassuring smile.

_I love you. Goodbye._


End file.
